Living Backwards (7 page)

“Problems, Megan?” Danielle asked on cue.

“Oh, I’ve just been trying to narrow down my picks for the Fantasy Football Draft and I’m torn between a few players,” she began in a dismissive tone.

Nate seemed to shift forward a bit. If I hadn’t been watching for it, I might have missed it. I pulled up a chair at the head of the table so that I could watch Megan and witness Nate’s reactions as well. My eyes met Luke’s briefly before I looked away. I had to stay focused. This was about Megan.

“Which players?” Josh asked as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be discussing Fantasy Football with her.

“Well, the Redskins just signed Champ Bailey from Georgia and he ran a 4.4 40 at the Combine. He was All-Southeastern Conference and All-American cornerback. It’s such a risk picking a rookie, but I think he can be amazing.” She tapped her finger against her lip as she studied the page of statistics in front of her. Champ Bailey was a machine. He was a great pick. He was with the Broncos now, and he kicked our butts every time we played against him.

Nate was watching the exchange closely, and I noticed him looking uncomfortable. I wondered if he thought Megan had just memorized some words to impress him. It really wasn’t the case. While she may not have had enough knowledge back then to successfully maneuver through a Fantasy Football draft, Megan understood the game better than any other girl I knew. Her dad had season tickets to the Seahawks and during the away games, Meg would watch with him, yelling profanities at the TV when Kitna would throw an interception. While Megan would never normally swear in front of her parents, on Sunday afternoons there was an unspoken understanding that calling Kitna an asshole in front of her dad was completely acceptable. Technically, Megan didn’t need my help or those statistics, but I knew she would definitely get his attention by picking out some of the shining stars of that draft.

“If I can get Brett Favre, I’ll definitely take him for QB, but have you seen Peyton Manning’s arm? And the guy can audible his way out of any formation. He’s got nerves of steel,” she added shaking her head from side to side.

“Take Bailey if you can get him,” Nate interjected. He played absently with the straw in his drink and didn’t make direct eye contact. “He’s an amazing corner. One of the best rookies I’ve ever seen.”

I was actually stunned that he chimed in so soon. She hadn’t even gotten to the bit about Ricky Williams or Edgerrin James.

“You think?” she replied playing it cool.

“Yeah. And I’d go right for Manning,” he added finally meeting her gaze.

“Really? Even if Favre is available? I mean he’s
Brett Favre
.”

“Yeah, but he’s getting old. How many years do you really think he has left?”
If he only knew.
“Manning was bred to play the game. I have some tapes of him playing with Tennessee. The guy is unreal. I can bring them in for you…I mean, if you’re interested.”

“I’d love to see them, but maybe you should send them to Kitna if he’s as good as you say. He might learn something,” she replied sarcastically.

“Now, now,” he countered holding this hands up in mock surrender. “He’s not that bad.”

“Right,” Megan added rolling her eyes.

“He has his merits,” Nate voice grew a little louder.

“When he holds onto the ball,” she answered with equal intensity.

I watched them volley back and forth. Meg was completely straying from the script, leaning over the table as she argued that the Seahawks should have drafted more defensive backs. Nate felt that they needed to build up the secondary. They were moving closer and closer, and I honestly didn’t know if he wanted to throw her down on the table and kiss her or kill her. Even I, who was used to how explosive they could be, was feeling uncomfortable watching the highly charged exchange. I felt like I should interrupt and get them back on track, but I never got involved when they squabbled like this because they usually ended up naked very shortly after.

“Please,” I heard Megan sneer. “I could run circles around your ass. I’ve seen how fast you are.”

Somehow the topic of conversation had switched from the speed of Megan’s Fantasy picks to whether or not Megan could beat Nate in the forty-meter.

“You’re joking, right?” he asked incredulously.

“I don’t joke,” she replied dryly. “Try me.”

“Fine,” he replied smirking at her. “After school at the track.” He got up from his side of the table and slowly walked over to her. “You better be ready to show me what you got,” he added, his voice husky and low.

“Plan on it,” she added standing up and gathering her books. “Danielle? Jillian?” she called beckoning us as she turned to leave. I looked back at the table as we followed her out of the cafeteria. Luke had been laughing with Josh and his smile almost caused me to lose my footing. As he turned to face us, our eyes met again. His smile faded as he watched me with an intensity that made my cheeks burn again. I wished that I knew what he was thinking at that moment. His expression was so strange.

After exiting the cafe, Megan held it together until she managed to scramble into the nearest restroom to jump up and down with excitement. I was thrilled that things had gone so well. It was classic Nate and Megan foreplay. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tackled him right on the field in front of the entire track team after school.

“This is a cause for celebration,” I announced pulling Joan from my back pocket. “To Megan and Nate,” I began, raising the sparkling flask for my toast. “May all your ups and downs be under the covers.” Megan batted my arm, but I managed to take a swig and hand it over to Danielle.

“Here’s to the top,” Danielle added raising the flask. “Here’s to the middle. Let’s hope after school, Meg gets a little.” She took a swig, winced and handed it to Megan.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not ‘little’, girls,” she teased grabbing the flask. “And I’m gonna smoke him after school regardless.”

“Now, you realize that he’s going to get all hot and sweaty?” I asked. “It might be a little distracting.”

“Trust me, Jillian,” she replied with a sinister smile. “You haven’t seen distracting yet.” She tipped the flask back, finishing it off.

“This is going to be awesome,” Danielle began. “We’ll meet at the track after school so Megan can show Nate what she’s got,” she added with a hip shake.

I shoved Joan into my messenger bag so that I could remember to refill her at home. As we walked back out to the hallway, I noticed that I had a few minutes before I needed to be in World Lit. It was just enough time to take a peek behind the gym. He would probably need his daily nic fix.

“I’ll catch up with you guys,” I said nonchalantly. “I forgot something in my locker.”

I knew if I rushed, I could make it there with a few minutes to spare. I told myself that it was more to hear his take on the scene in the cafeteria than for any other reason. I rushed through the sea of students quickly, but in my haste I found myself colliding with a frazzled freshman. As I hit the ground, my bag opened, spilling the contents all over the floor. I watched in horror as my flask went skidding down the hall finally bouncing off of Mrs. Jacobs’ shoe. She picked it up, inspected it and slowly looked over at me as I sat on the floor frozen.

“Jillian Cross,” she began sternly. “In my classroom. Now.” My heart was in my throat. I had never gotten in trouble before. And this was big trouble.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you, Jillian,” she began, glaring at me from behind her desk. “Your behavior has been strange, and now you’re bringing alcohol to school?” She shook it testing to see if there was anything inside. I suddenly was extremely grateful that Megan was a flask-hog and finished up the rest of the vodka. “It’s empty,” she stated.

“Yes, I swear. I just brought it as a joke,” I replied trying to rein in my panic.

“I’m really disappointed in you, Jillian. You should know better. Report to detention today. And I’m confiscating the flask.”

The blood drained from my face and I felt the tears well up in my eyes. No. No. She couldn’t take it.

“Mrs. Jacob, I understand what I did was wrong,” I implored. “I promise I will never bring it back to school again. If you could just give it back to me—”

“Jillian, it’s not appropriate for a seventeen-year-old girl to be carrying around a flask even if it’s just a joke, so no, you’re not getting it back,” she replied. “Detention is in Mrs. Dupont’s room today,” she added dismissing me. I watched her drop Joan into the top drawer of her desk, turning the key to lock it once it was closed.

I could barely see through the moisture in my eyes as I left the room. It was so stupid to have taken it out inside the school. Well, it was stupid bringing it to school in the first place, but I needed it and now it was gone and I had no safety net. I was barreling back down the hall to hide in the restroom when I felt a tug on my arm.

“Jillian,” Luke asked, his brows furrowed, “what’s going on?”

I really didn’t want to be in the hallway when the waterworks started, but when I looked up at him, the flood gates opened and I began to cry.

“I fell and my bag opened and Joan…” I was so angry and upset that I couldn’t get the words straight. “You were right. I shouldn’t have brought it here. Now I’ve got detention, and I don’t even know what people
do
in detention.”

“It isn’t all that bad,” he replied, his face softening. “You do your homework. You sit quietly. You act sorry and then you go home.”

“It’s not just that. She confiscated my flask. It was a gift and it meant a lot to me. I know you think I’m stupid, but it’s important.”

“Listen. Yeah, I think naming your flask is a little ridiculous, but I never said I thought you were stupid,” he said looking at me intently again. “Come on. You need to get to class.” He placed his hand on my shoulder to steer me back down the hall.

“So I’ll see you after school with the rest of the burnouts,” he said, chuckling. “This time it’s my turn to save
you
a seat.” He moved a strand of hair away from my face. It was wet from my embarrassing breakdown.

“Hey,” he added, his voice soft and low, “smile.”

It seemed so cliché. Like the part of the movie when the cute boy tells the sad girl that everything is going to be all right and suddenly it is. He told me to smile and I did. But once he went off to class and I was left to fester, I began to panic. I was going to Tacoma tomorrow with Luke, and I’d be doing it without my liquid courage. That was unacceptable.

By the time the bell for dismissal rang, I felt like I was going to be sick. As I entered Mrs. Dupont’s classroom, I balked at how stereotypical the group in front of me was. There was a guy dressed in all black, carving something into the wood of his chair with a Swiss Army Knife. No one seemed to be paying attention to him. When he caught me staring, he leered at me. Apparently I was interrupting.

There was a guy and girl I recognized as juniors making out in the back of the classroom. She was sitting on one of the desks while he leaned over her, standing in between her legs. I think he was trying to vacuum her face off. I felt like I should pelt them with prophylactics and maybe some anti-bac soap.

Cody Adams was sitting front and center. He was the guy who tried to sell brownies and muffins laced with marijuana in the Senior Bake Sale. He thought it would be funny to get the whole class “baked at the Bake Sale.” But the brownies tasted so bad, everyone that bought them started throwing up all over the place. It was just like that scene in
Stand By Me
except everyone got the munchies afterward. I’d had an aversion to baked goods ever since.
Thanks for that, Cody.

Luke was sitting by the windows, watching me survey the room. He quirked his head calling me over, as if I was going to sit any place else.

“It’s a freak show in here,” I whispered leaning in close.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I heard there’s a girl that talks to her flask.”

“Har, har,” I retorted. “You never told me why you were here anyway.”

“Pissed off Dupont last week,” he replied dismissively as he fidgeted with his pen. I noticed scabs on his knuckles.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Nothing,” he answered quickly. “Just from fixing my bike.” I thought there might be more to the story, but it was clear that Luke was not interested in telling me.

“So tomorrow,” I began. “Are we still going to Tacoma?”

“Do I have a choice?” he replied smirking. I was suddenly struck with a terrifying thought.

“We’re not going on your bike, are we?” There was no way I could handle riding on the back of Luke’s bike with my arms wrapped around his waist. Just smelling his smoky, minty goodness now was making me light-headed.

“Would that be a problem?” he asked clearly mocking me.

“Well, yes,” I stammered. “It’s just that…well…it would be…I mean, I…”

“Relax,” he said, interrupting my meltdown. “I have a car.”

“Oh. Right. Good,” I babbled ridiculously. “Not that the bike isn’t good. Just not in this instance.”

“So aside from replenishing your stash, we need to get you a new nameless flask,” he added while doodling on his notebook.

“I don’t want another flask. I want my flask,” I pouted. “It has sentimental value.” He got that same funny look on his face that I noticed in the cafeteria. I was about to ask him what was wrong when Mrs. Dupont walked in and instructed us to take out our homework and work silently. I tried to concentrate on my trig study sheet
,
but it was really distracting sitting next to Luke. He, however, didn’t seem to have the same problem as he worked on some chemistry report.

Ten minutes before detention was over, I heard something hit the floor next to me. Looking at the ground, there was a balled up piece of paper. I looked at Luke and he made a slight motion for me to pick it up.
Luke Chambers is passing me a note?
Is he going to ask me to go steady and drive to Inspiration Point, too?